


toss a coin

by indigo_penstrokes



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, M/M, Monsters, Sorry Not Sorry, and which i didn't, i basically picked what parts of the witcher universe i wanted to use, this is basically a witcher style au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_penstrokes/pseuds/indigo_penstrokes
Summary: david and sarah are witchers, monster hunters with magic passed down through generations, they live lonely lives of seclusion and isolation from the public that both fears and reveres them. katherine is a storyteller who's run out of stories, and what better place to find inspiration than in a witcher. jack is a bard who's heart often get's away from him, and when a tall quiet stranger arrives in town he finds a bit of bardic inspiration. they make for an unlikely band, but when the fate of their kingdom lies in the balance they're willing to do whatever it takes.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	1. the work of a witcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little preface before we dive into this au. i have only seen the netflix adaptation of the witcher so the pieces of that i added in here come from there. it should also be noted that this au is simply based on the witcher and is not a perfect match up since i did change quite a few things to suit what i wanted from this story

The swamp was cold and wet, as nearly all swamps are, but Sarah had been having a day that was also cold and wet so the swampiness of this swamp only proved to irk her further. Her boots sloshed with foul muddy water and her hair stuck to her face where she hadn’t pulled it back tight enough in her braids. It was times like this where she wondered if killing other people’s monsters was really a job that needed to be done.

The kelpie that burst from the water not five paces in front of her answered the question for her. 

It caused putrid water to rain down on them both before baring its knife-like teeth. In Sarah’s opinion horses should not have teeth that could be used for daggers.

She swung her sword down in a clean arc, aiming for a swift decapitation so she could return to Flushing and treat herself to a nice hot bath. The blade connected with waterlogged flesh, making a horrid yet satisfying squelching sound. She really hated when the first strike didn’t kill them. It was so much extra work.

The kelpie kicked out, one of its hooves smashing into Sarah’s side, knocking some of the breath from her lungs. It whinnied in a way no true horse could. A shrill sound that was more like the howl of a storm than an animal.

“Fuck.” She staggered to the side, sword falling out of it’s second arc. If she had to go dredging through the swamp because this ass of a monster made her drop it she would not be a happy witcher.

The kelpie took this as its chance to chomp down on her and enjoy a nice meal of witcher and leather armor.

“Not today you waterlogged bastard,” she ground out, already whirling out of the way. She buried a dagger in its flank, just above where its heart was. Black ichor ran from the wound, dripping down the monster’s dappled coat. 

The kelpie’s eyes were an infernal red as it snapped at her again, water thrashing around them like a hurricane.

Sarah had to admit the rush of adrenaline and other more magical substances in her blood made her positively giddy as she dodged another attack. She was dancing a waltz with death where she was the one leading.

It took only a few minutes to get her sword lodged into the beast’s chest. A final swift twist of the blade made it fall into the three feet of water with a great splash, drenching Sarah in yet more revolting water and ichor. It would take at least two rounds of washing to remove the stench from her hair alone. She didn’t even want to think about what it was doing to her armor.

She pulled both her sword and dagger from the great beast’s flank with two equally sickening slick sounds. Now that the thing was dead she could see it was nearly the size of a draft horse and had been twice as mean. It was easy to see how it had been able to kill three town’s people in the two months before they got ahold of Sarah. Kelpies were an especially nasty business if you weren’t a witcher. 

“May you find rest,” she said softly, as if it were a prayer, before bringing her sword down once more on the water horse’s neck.

The last of the black blood oozed into the murky water. 

She grabbed a fistful of tangled mane and headed back to where she had tied Ember to a sour apple tree. Her boots squelching the entire quarter mile trek. No doubt she would have a new collection of blisters to go with the hoof print on her ribs.

“Hi girl,” she greeted when Ember butted her head against Sarah’s still sopping chest. The mare just huffed and shifted uncomfortably, she never had liked the way Sarah smelt after a kill. 

“I’ll make sure to get you the good apples when we get back.” Sarah secured the now wrapped up kelpie head to the rear most saddle bags. Hopefully it wouldn’t start to smell until she delivered it to the town council that had hired her. 

Ember shook her mane, ready to get out of the cold damp and back to a slightly less cold and damp town. Sarah was more than happy to oblige as she gracefully lifted herself into the saddle and directed them back the way they came.

The people of Flushing parted for her the moment she rode into the square. Whether it was from fear or reverence was hidden from her. She liked to think it was both; reverence for the rider atop a silver steed, and fear for the witcher that killed the stuff of nightmares without a batting an eye. Either way she figured she cut a striking figure with her sword strapped to her back, a kelpie’s head tied to the back of her saddle, and some monster blood flecked across her face like gruesome freckles in the late afternoon sun.

“I’ve fulfilled my end of our deal.” She untied and tossed the monster’s head to the ground in one fluid motion. It rolled until it hit the feet of the mayor, its tongue lolling a bit.

“A deed we are all thankful for, witcher. Here is your payment.” He tossed a small but heavy bag of coins to her, which she caught with ease. 

She nodded once before steering Ember to the inn she was lodging in for the time being. She would be eating well for at least a week, or at least until her next job came around. 

After Sarah got Ember settled into the stables with an apple to munch on she made her way back towards the inn. She wanted nothing more than a hot bath, but her stomach growled, reminding her she needed to eat. So she veered off in the direction of the tavern next door. 

The air in the shoddy tavern was thick with warmth and smoke. Sarah made her way to sit at the far end of the bar, then ordered a simple meal of bread, cheese, some cured meat and an ale. No one bothered her, the blessing and curse of a witcher. 

She ate less ravenously than her stomach would have liked, but soon enough she was nursing her drink as she took in the barroom din. Heightened hearing meant she could pick out individual conversations should she want to, it also meant she heard the soft shush of a cloak as someone walked over to her secluded segment of bar. 

“Can I help you?” She asked blandly, not looking up from her drink. 

“A mulled wine if you please, barkeep,” the woman ordered, seeming to pay Sarah no mind.

Curiosity had started to tingle in the back of her mind. No one ever sat next to a witcher when there were other open seats unless they wanted something.

“Can I help you,” Sarah repeated. Her stein now empty gave her no reason to stay unless this woman had another job for her. 

“You killed that monster, yes?” She finally turned to Sarah, eyes alight with something more than a general curiosity. If Sarah was going by looks this woman wanted something from Sarah that lay just outside killing monsters.

“A kelpie, yes.” Sarah turned away from the woman’s burning gaze. Witchers didn’t blush, but she felt a low heat creep into her cheeks as she laid her payment on the bartop. 

“I’m Katherine Plumber.” Katherine held out a hand. 

“Sarah. Jacobs.” She kept her hands wrapped around her empty cup.

“Well Sarah, I was wondering if you could help me write a book.” Katherine was now leaning against the bar and facing Sarah head on. Not deterred by the stench of swamp and kelpie blood.

“I think you have the wrong person for that miss.” Sarah gestured to the barkeep for a refill when she brought Katherine’s drink.

“I don’t. I want to write about _your_ adventures.” She punctuated this by poking Sarah’s shoulder, except it was more of a jab than a poke.

“Why?” Sarah asked plainly.

“Because the people should know of your heroic acts.” Katherine said it was though it was the most obvious thing in the world and not something from a fever dream. 

“The people would rather see me gone than hear of how I dispatch their monsters.” Sarah drained the nearly full drink in a single go. Her mother would have been horrified. She then stood to leave. “I’m also not a hero.” 

“But you could be. With my words and your tales you won’t have to go hunting for work, the people would come to you.” Katherine followed her to the door, her cloak billowing like a scarlet wraith behind her.

“You aren’t going to give up are you?” Sarah sighed. All she had wanted was a decent meal and a bath, and it seemed like all she was getting was a headache. Hopefully she could still get her bath.

“Not likely.” Katherine grinned cheekily, as if she had already won.

Sarah sighed again. “Fine. I leave for Queens at dawn.” It wasn’t an invitation exactly but if Katherine really wanted to see just how gruesome a witcher’s life was, then she would get to see it first hand. 

“I’ll see you then witcher.” Katherine then disappeared into the late evening sunset leaving Sarah wondering if that had all truly happened.

~*~

Dawn woke Sarah bright and early from her well deserved slumber. Her ribs ached a bit, but at least she had gone to bed clean and thoroughly exhausted from a job well done. But now duty called again and she needed to be on her way to the next town and the monsters she would inevitably find there. A witcher’s work was never done.

She dressed quickly and went to packing up her supplies and provisions with a practiced ease. It was only a few minutes before she was striding across the dew soaked lawn towards the stables. The early morning light turning the drops into gold.

Ember greeted her with a snort and pawed at the ground as Sarah entered the stall. She was just as ready to leave Flushing as Sarah was. 

It was second nature as Sarah saddled Ember up for the long journey ahead of them, mentally going through her checklist of supplies and gear. She had her sword sheathed on her back, dagger in her belt, and the saddle bags contained all of the other more magical items that Sarah needed to hunt monsters, as well as her rations for the trip. Before they knew it she was riding out of the stables and onto the main street out of town.

“Forgetting something?” A voice called from a ways away.

Sarah groaned as she reined Ember back. She had in fact forgotten that she had invited the writer to accompany her, and now said writer was trotting up to meet her. It was going to be a long ride to Queens.

“Cheer up, I’m not the worst person to have as a travel companion.” Katherine pulled her steed, a handsome chestnut stallion, to a stop just off to Sarah’s right. At least she was dressed for the journey with a riding cloak and a sturdy looking pair of pants that tucked into a pair of distressed looking riding boots. She looked like a seasoned rider. A fact that surprised Sarah.

“You say that now, but only the journey will tell,” Sarah muttered before clicking her tongue and nudging Ember forward.

“Oh I like that, can I use it?” Katherine pulled a notepad from somewhere on her person and scribbled down the phrase. 

“Sure?” Sarah gawked a bit at how Katherine could write as she rode. It seemed she was a lady of many a talent and Sarah had been too quick to judge.

“Wonderful.” Katherine urged her horse into a trot to make up the small distance lost. 

They passed all of ten minutes in a blissful quiet of bird songs and clip clop of their horses hooves before Katherine spoke up again.

“Do you believe in destiny?” 

“I believe that destiny is an awfully weighty word to be throwing around before midday.” Truth be told Sarah liked to think she forged her own path in life and that the only places she was headed towards were the ones she created herself or that paid the most coin.

“Perhaps it is, but I’d like to think it was destiny that put me in that town at the same time as you. That our paths were meant to cross and join together.” Katherine tilted her head curiously as she studied Sarah, it was a touch unnerving. It felt like her insides were on display for the writer to see. “I’m glad to have met you Sarah.”

Sarah was stunned breathless, her lungs contracting in on themselves to the point she just barely got out a pinched “thank you” only managing to breathe once Katherine turned her attention back to the road before them. 

She then breathed a sigh of relief when Katherine didn’t say anything more. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to the wordsmith it was rather that Sarah had never been good with keeping conversations alive, that much was evident in a long history of lost conversations. Whether that was a by-product of being a witcher, or just a by-product of being Sarah she still wasn’t sure. What she did notice, in fact, was that Katherine was turning out to be a decent travel companion. Sarah even caught herself smiling when she heard snatches of what the other woman was humming. 

Maybe she had been rather lonely since parting ways with David.

Roughly three hours passed and the sun climbed steadily overhead, casting their shadows shorter and shorter in front of them. Katherine asked surprisingly few questions, and when she did they weren’t about the sorts of monsters Sarah had fought, and subsequently killed, but rather about what she was like as a person, not as a witcher. 

It was strange to talk about her life in such a way. Mostly people wanted her for her skills and service and nothing more. She supposed it was easier to see her as a tool rather than a person with a frankly frightening set of skills and supposed lack of empathy. 

“I feel like you know more about me than I do you, care to indulge me on where the great Katherine Plumber hails from?” Sarah couldn’t help the small grin that quirked her lips when she glanced over at a nearly dozing Katherine. 

“I was born in Manhattan, ran away at eighteen with Charming here,” she patted the stallion’s neck, “and I’ve been living off my writing ever since.” 

“That’s quite the story, are you sure you even need me?” Sarah cracked the barest hint of a smirk.

“Was that a joke Miss Jacobs, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Katherine gasped and threw a hand over her chest. It was a clever diversion, but a diversion nonetheless. It seemed Sarah wasn’t the only one with skeletons in her past. A fact that only proved to endear Katherine to her that much more. 

“You will find I am capable of many things Miss Plumber.” Sarah quipped as she pulled Ember to a stop under a grove of wild fruit trees. If her hearing was correct, and it nearly always was, there was also a stream nearby. “But for now we should take a rest, I wouldn’t want to have to rescue you if you dozed off and fell.” 

Katherine chuckled at that, and Sarah felt something foreign stir to life in her chest. What it was exactly she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t all unpleasant. It was quite the opposite really.

They ended up hitching the horses to a willow near the brook’s bank, allowing them to drink their fill before they headed east again. Sarah placed herself down on a half rotted stump as Katherine fetched something from her saddle bags.

“Now that we’ve stopped for a bit, can I ask you some questions about your most recent adventures?” She had her pen poised above a blank sheet in a notebook whose binding had no doubt seen better days.

But before Sarah could answer a hawk’s cry pierced the air just as the bird itself came diving through the canopy. Its feathers were the same silver hue as Ember and its talons the color of pitch. It would have frightened most people, but Sarah was not most people.

She stood and then whistled loudly, three quick notes in an ascending arpeggio. The bird circled the grove once more before it came to land on her outstretched arm. 

“What brings you here Lilt?” She scratched the feathers beneath his beak affectionately. The question was answered in the note he carried on his leg. 

Once the paper was removed and Lilt placed onto the nearest tree branch she opened the letter. It had been folded impossibly tight and that, with the fact that Lilt was the messenger, meant only one thing. The neat script and single letter signature at the bottom only confirmed this. 

It was a letter from her brother.

“Oh David, what have you gotten yourself into now,” she sighed, already starting to skim through the letter’s contents. 

“Who’s David?” Katherine had appeared over her shoulder, nosy as ever. 

Sarah sidestepped and began to pace around the grove. “My brother.” 

A letter from David was a serious matter. It meant he needed her for something important, something that couldn’t wait for their paths to cross. This one detailed an urgent summons he had received from an anonymous employer that claimed to give them the job of a lifetime if they came to the capital city of Manhattan before the months end. He also wrote that there had been a portion of their payment enclosed with the summons, so it seemed to be a true an employment when one was in the job of killing monsters. David would meet her in Brooklyn, and would wait there unless Sarah sent a letter telling him to continue on. 

There was something about the tone of her brother’s writing that set unease deep in her bones. He wasn’t telling her everything, perhaps in case Lilt got intercepted, but whatever the reason she needed to go see him, if only to get the entire story and then leave again. 

“Mount up, we’re going to Brooklyn.” Sarah folded the letter and tucked it carefully into her belt before striding over to the horses.

“Why? What’s there?” Katherine stumbled in her rush to follow.

Sarah smirked as she mounted Ember with ease. “Destiny.”


	2. of bards, basilisks, and ballads

About a hundred miles northwest and a few days earlier, David found himself in the fog with just the barest amount of sunlight cutting through the murk. It was hard to believe it was nearly noon with the slight chill and lack of light.

David did not want to be out in the late morning fog hunting a monster that could petrify its prey with a single look. No he would much rather have been sitting in the stables reading one of the many books he'd accumulated through the years, surrounded by the warm scent of hay and oats, and the gentle sounds of resting horses. It was a near ludicrous fantasy but one could dream, couldn't they?

His attention was quickly drawn to the sudden splash of water and low hiss off to his left. He lifted his duly gleaming sword in the direction of the sound. It would be unwise to be caught unawares at a time such as this. 

He crept on slowly yet surely through the willows and cattails. If he could catch the basilisk by surprise before it warmed its body up it would be an easy encounter.

As he broke through the line of riverside plants he found not only the basilisk, but its prey as well. He could just barely make out how the beast had cornered some poor traveler up against the soft stone of the opposing riverbank. He hoped the man was smart enough to keep his eyes closed, and judging by the shake of his knees he had been.

David hit the water with as much noise as he could muster, whistling sharply when that still didn't draw the creature’s attention away from the traveler. 

“Over here you overgrown garden snake!” He shut his eyes the moment the serpent jerked its head towards him. He didn't have a chance to see if the traveler had fled. Hopefully he wasn't stupid enough to stick around.

David had known he'd have to be fighting blind, but knowing and doing were two very different things. 

He heard the scrape of scales on stone a few paces to the left of where the beast had been. It was trying to circle and confuse him.

A few more seconds of just listening passed before he vaulted forwards into the air, praying he calculated correctly as he swung his sword down in a powerful arc. It connected with the unguarded flesh behind the great snake’s crest, spraying blue-black blood into David's face. It let out an earth shaking bellow, sounding more dragon than snake. 

He landed with a stutter. The river rocks slid beneath his feet, attempting to dump him into the still frigid water. He righted himself quickly, blade raised to parry the basilisk’s strike. 

The basilisk, as it seemed, had anticipated this, and so it lashed out with its tail, knocking David to the riverbed with a splash. 

“Fuck,” David spat, breath wheezing from his lungs as they seized. Fortunately he kept a grip on his sword, this was not the fight to be using daggers in. 

The basilisk gurgled out a hiss that sounded eerily like laughter. It was hovering right above his face, breath hot a putrid.

David, with all his strength, thrust his sword up into what he hoped to be the creature's face. The blade cut cleanly through bone and cranial flesh as he buried it up to the hilt on the roof of the basilisk’s mouth. A moment, then two, passed and then the beast fell still. He pulled the sword free, but it wasn’t before a fang sliced deep into his upper arm. The wound throbbed against his movements. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, deciding to just lay in the creek for a bit before dealing with the injury and harvesting what he needed for proof of completion. He ignored the fact that his clothes were rapidly being soaked with monster blood as well as water. That was a problem to deal with later.

“How the hell were you able to fight that _with your eyes closed?”_

David’s eyes snapped open and tracked onto where the voice came from. 

The traveler, though minstrel seemed a more apt descriptor once he noticed the lute strapped to the man’s back, stood where David had first found him, but he startled back under David’s gaze. Something he couldn’t be blamed for, David’s hunt preparations left him looking slightly less than human with jet black eyes and impossibly dark circles under them.

“You’re a witcher!” The man said, shock and awe coloring his voice. 

“What ever could have given you that idea,” David snarked as he hauled himself upright, only hissing slightly when his wound pulsed angrily. He really didn’t want an audience as he dealt with the aftermath of a fight. 

“Are all witchers as dashing as you?” The man asked, not at all deterred by David’s sour disposition. In fact, he seemed all the more interested because of it. 

“No.” The subtle heat that was rising to his cheeks was something he blamed on the toxic effects of the basilisk venom that was making its way into his bloodstream. 

David grabbed for the bag strapped to his back that held his emergency medical supplies. He rooted around in it for a bit, trying to find the cure-all salve Sarah had given him and some bandages. It was only after he had cleaned and dressed the wound that he realized the bard was still standing in the middle of the stream next to him. 

“Why are you still here?” David sheathed his sword in a way that could have been described as angrily, but he liked to think it was more of a subtle hint to the bard about his feelings at the moment.

“Because this is the most interesting thing to happen to me in at least a month if you ignore last week’s bar fight.” The man watched as David pried two of the largest fangs from the now deceased basilisk’s mouth. 

“May you find rest,” he whispered before pulling the last tooth and dropping it into a small leather pouch on his belt. He then stood, scowling. “You almost get killed by a basilisk, and you call that _interesting?”_

“What would you have called it, hm?” The man stood with an arrogant tilt to his hips and a grin danced about his lips. He was a bard in every sense and David had to work not to sneer at that. No not sneer, it was another emotion of the same intensity as disgust, but it wasn't disgust. Annoyance perhaps.

“Idiotic.” And with that he started off back the way he had come, back towards Richmond. He ignored the way his pulse hadn’t yet slowed. It was probably the leftover adrenaline.

He heard the man huff and then start to follow. 

David turned and drew his sword, the point a hairsbreadth from the man’s chest. He was in a foul mood and in no need for company, at least not of the sort that was liable to start singing once they made it to the road. “Do not follow me.”

The bard said nothing as he held his hands up in surrender, though he didn’t look as scared as David thought he ought to. The half cocky smirk was still on his face. 

David took a few steps back before lowering the blade and leaving the bard to find his own way in the still foggy world around them, even if something about that made his chest tighten uncomfortably. 

The feeling stayed with him the entire trek back, and it only strengthed when the people of Richmond parted like a river around him. David had mostly gotten used the hushed tones and wary glances that followed him whenever he was in a town as large as Richmond was, but getting used to and not being bothered by it were two very different things in David’s book. Maybe that was why he was still thinking about the headstrong bard; he had been the only person to seem completely at ease being around someone like David. 

And maybe that was why he wasn’t exactly present as he turned the teeth over to the town council, and received his due payment with nothing more than a grunt and a nod. 

Was he wrong to leave the man standing in that creek, David mused as his feet took him back through the heart of town. What if something worse happened to him and David had just sent him to a delayed yet early death.

He sighed loudly, scaring a pair of school age girls to the other side of the cobble street. 

After more inner turmoil and a few more pained sighs David found that his feet had carried him back to the stables of Richmond, and subsequently to the only companion he had left.

The Richmond stables weren’t anything like the ones David had known growing up. They were larger, made to accomodate the steeds of many travelers rather than the four horses that had called the Jacobs’ farm home, and it was falling apart slightly at the edges where the ones back home had been worn down, but still functional. But they were clean and dry, and that’s really all the mattered as David settled into the stall alongside Frost with a book in his lap. 

The ashen sabino mare bumped her nose against David’s shoulder, both a greeting and demand for carrots. She then snorted in disgust when she got a nose full of dead basilisk. 

“Sorry Frost,” he laughed when the mare did what could only be called pouting as she hung her head out the window. David was a firm believer that animals were better than most people, even if they were dramatic sometimes.

Frost just twitched her tail and huffed. 

David settled himself down farther into the warm straw that piled in the corners of the stall to keep out the chill, perfectly content to stay just like that until either hunger or nightfall urged him elsewhere. The book he’d brought was one the bookkeep of the last town had gifted him after disposing of a particularly nasty undead wolf. It was a collection of epic poetry and tales of long dead heroes. 

Most of the stories, he thought, probably had ballads that went with them. A fact he discarded upon the principle that it made him think of the one thing he was trying to forget about. It was not as easy a task as he had assumed, because it seemed that the world was not happy with him tossing his thoughts of the bard aside, and just as he turned the first page he heard snatches of a song float up into the stables.

_“Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle,_  
_What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream,”_

David did his best to tune the bard out as he focused on his book. But still the singing persisted, and too soon the words began to mingle with the ones on the page, causing David to sigh in disappointment. At least the man had a nice voice.

_“What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal_  
_What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam,”_

He eventually gave up on reading as more lyrics floated closer to the stables, opting instead to give Frost a brushing. She deserved it after the journey they’d made to get here.

_“So stick to the cratur’ the best thing in nature,_  
_For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys,”_

David purposefully did not turn around from his brushing when he heard the voice enter the stables though the volume had lowered now that he was inside rather than out. He didn’t know why a bard would be singing to the horses, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

_“And I’d have to wonder, if lightning and thunder_  
_Was made from the plunder of, whiskey me boys.”_

The bard finished his song just behind David, no doubt leaning against the doorframe like an idiot. “Well hello again, witcher.” 

David sighed, dropping the hand that held the brush to his side and turned. “Why are you here, bard?”

“I just wanted to introduce myself to the man who saved my life.” He took David’s silence as invitation to step into the stall, hand outstretched. “I’m Jack, Jack Kelly.” 

David still had manners so he shook Jack’s hand and said shortly, “David.” 

Jack smiled bright and radiant, and David had to admit that he was glad Jack was alright after practically stranding the poor bard after saving him. “A pleasure to meet you Davey. Has anyone told you, you have eyes like a summer day?” 

David glared at the bard, but there was no heat behind it. He even had to fight off the smile that was threatening to split his face in two. “No, because no one’s been stupid as to get close enough to see them.” 

“Ah, that’s a shame. There should be songs about them.” Jack leaned against the stall divider, not three feet away from where David had been. It seemed the musician had no concept of personal space.

“You could always write them, you are a bard aren’t you,” David quipped sarcastically, carefully putting himself on the other side of Frost. The horse acting as a buffer between him and the bard. He wasn’t sure why he needed the space between them, but something told him if it wasn’t there he might not like what he would do.

This was evidently the wrong thing to say, as Jack perked up like a flower in water. “You’re absolutely right!”

“That’s not at all. No.” David dropped his head onto Frost’s flank, much to the mare’s dismay. She hit him with her tail. “Ugh.”

Jack strummed a chord on his lute, smiling devilishly. “I can hear it now.” 

He plucked out a few more chords, and began to sing, slow and dulcet: “His brow was blessed by Cupid, with eyes of glittering gold.” 

David glared, but held his tongue. He was curious despite his better judgement.

“And a counterence of marble, flushed so I did behold.” Jack’s smile quirked up on one side as he played another few chords. 

“Now you’re just making things up,” David interjected before Jack could sing another verse. His face felt feverish and he did not want to think about the implications of that particular fact.

Jack stopped strumming and clapped a hand to his chest, mock offense written in every line of his face. “How dare you accuse me of such blasphemy.” 

“You’re a bard, I’m pretty sure blasphemy is part of the occupation.” David smirked as he delivered what he considered to be a very clever remark. He wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but this banter with Jack was pleasant, enjoyable even.

“You wound me and my guild, David. And here I thought witchers were noble,” Jack scoffed, but he was grinning even so.

David let out a very ignoble snort before schooling his features back into a mask of indifference. But the mask slipped just as quickly as he’d put it in place. Nothing able to contain his small grin.

“So the witcher has more emotions than annoyance!” Jack cheered as though this was a great discovery, which it might have been since witchers were rather infamous for their cold and stony exteriors. 

“No one would ever believe you,” David said deadpan, holding the expression for a few moments longer than he needed to. He enjoyed watching as Jack became suddenly unsure of himself. But soon enough his own infectious grin was back. 

“You had me there for a moment, I almost believed I’d imagined the whole thing.” Jack shook his head, mouth turned up into a fond smile. 

Jack Kelly had a nice mouth, David thought, and them immediately took five steps back in his thinking as the last five minutes resolved into clarity. It wasn’t a picture David was ready to face. Not yet at least. 

Fortunately a distraction had just arrived in the form of a courier who looked rather fearful at the stable entrance. 

“Excuse me sirs, but I have an urgent letter for the witcher David Jacobs.” The young man held out a hefty looking envelope. 

“That would be me,” David stepped out from behind Frost and took the letter, passing the messenger a tip for his troubles, “many thanks to you.” 

The courier dipped his head once in acknowledgement before hurrying out of the stables. 

Jack scoffed softly, as if he were judging the letter carrier for his apparent fear of David. As if David wasn’t easily the most dangerous thing in the room at any given time.

David on the other hand turned the letter over in his hands, taking in the heft and quality of the envelope. But the most interesting aspect was the seal: golden wax imprinted with the image of a sword crossed with a quill. It was the seal of one of Manhattan’s noble families. 

This couldn’t have possibly been good.

He broke the seal with a resounding “pop.” Pulling out the missive, a single sheet of thick paper that spoke of money all on its own. He read it over carefully, ignoring Jack’s concerned frown.

The letter was a summons, a summons for what was unclear aside from the notion that it would be to discuss the specifics of an employment deal. It said nothing about what monster these nobles wanted disposed of, only that he would be paid handsomely. But perhaps the most peculiar part was that it asked him to bring along his sister, Sarah, and that the court hadn’t been able to locate her to send a letter. 

What sort of job needed not one, but two witchers? He thought as he skimmed the rest of the letter. 

It wasn’t signed with a name, only a post script that informed the reader that the coins contained in the letter were a show of good faith and that they hoped David would accept their offer. 

He checked and sure enough the envelope held roughly a dozen gold pieces that he then shook out into his hand. They were very, very real.

Either someone had gone a very long way to lead him into a trap, or this was all very, very real.

“So,” Jack prompted, obviously curious but trying well to hide it.

“It’s a very mysterious job offer.” David frowned again. “I need to write to my sister before I leave.” 

He didn’t have time to wait for Jack as he started back for the inn he’d been living in for the past week or so.

Jack was fumbling to follow David’s loping strides. “You’re going to take it just like that, no questions at all? But more importantly, _you have a sister?”_

“No, I’m not taking it right away. Just getting more information, but I will probably end up accepting it. And yes I have had a sister all my life, as she’s had me as a brother all of hers.” David cast a glance to where Jack was walking at a much brisker pace to keep up beside him. “She could tear your heart out without so much as a smile.” 

“Duly noted, do not flirt with the sister. Got it.” But something about the glint in Jack’s eye pointed to the opposite. 

“Is one Jacobs not enough for you?” This was a treacherous ground he now walked, more outright than he had possibly ever been in all his years alive. More images blurred into sharp clarity as his pulse raced.

Jack laughed, a bright happy sound against the grey day. Like a birdsong on a winter’s morning. It was a sound that warmed David through to his very core. 

Maybe, just maybe, he would as the bard to join him on the journey to Manhattan. Since maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so keen on being alone any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song jack sings in italics is lifted directly from [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ-UItNBoMw) because i love hozier and thought it fit well


	3. by light of an envious moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got out of hand and is nearly as long as the first two combined, but i assure you it is very much worth it  
> also i promise im not dead college midterms are just A Lot at the moment

Sarah and Katherine rode until the sun started to sink over the edge of the world. The fading light forcing them to make camp just outside a small farming town as it bathed the world in rose. It was so beautiful that Katherine’s seemingly endless stream of questions didn’t even bother Sarah, not that they had on the trip, but it felt like she should have been growing tired of them. 

Not long after they had a small fire crackling merrily in the ground and the horses were happily grazing beside them. They hadn’t unpacked everything exactly, but they had their bedrolls spread on the ground and they were eating some of their rations as they watched the sky above them shift and change from day to dusk.

Katherine was scribbling away with one hand whilst the other held a piece of dried fruit, her notebook balanced on one of her knees a bit precariously. “So this creature you fought was what again?” 

“A cockatrice, and the only reason I was tasked with eliminating it was because it was sick and had started to venture too close to Tymes. It was a mercy killing, the thing was scared and dying.” Sarah shrugged, watching Katherine write everything down. She took the opportunity to try to puzzle out the woman before her. 

Katherine had come from a place of money, that much was obvious in her vocabulary, so unlike the usual vernacular, and the way she rode, all regal posture and precise movements. They were both the sort of skills that came from having good teachers, and those were things that only came from money. But she had said she ran away, a fact that struck Sarah as odd. Who would ever run away from a place of that kind of comfort? She must have had her reasons, and Sarah wouldn’t pry unless it became absolutely necessary. Though curiosity lodged itself under her skin like a peculiar itch she couldn’t quite leave alone. 

Katherine Plumber was a beautiful enigma.

“Got it.” Katherine tilted her head to stare at Sarah, bird-like and curious. “Now someone as captivating as yourself must have had some romance in between all those monsters.” 

“That’s where you would be wrong.” Sarah swept her gaze out to the field beyond. It was the truth. People saw Sarah as a means to a solution rather than a living breathing person, which maybe was for the best since the life she lived was not the easiest. It wouldn't be fair to drag some poor lover into the mess.

“No?” Katherine said, seemingly shocked. “There is no way in the nine kingdoms that no one has ever fallen for your good looks and rugged charm.”

“Not a soul, but romance has never held much weight in my heart either.”  _ Until now _ , came unbidden into her thoughts and caused her to bite her cheek. 

“Interesting.” Sarah half expected Katherine to write that particular fact down, but her pen remained still. “Any reason?” 

“I guess I just haven’t stayed anywhere long enough to form that sort of connection,” Sarah answered thoughtfully. She had never been one to give her heart away easily, love for her took time and a steady companionship. Both of which were hard to come by in her line of work. 

Katherine opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of something quickly approaching cut her off. 

Sarah was on her feet in a heartbeat, sword drawn and readied in front of her. And to her surprise Katherine was also standing, her own rapier drawn and leveled into a defensive position. Sarah hadn't noticed the sword before, but she didn't have time to question it since the footfalls were growing steadily closer. They weren’t alone any longer, perhaps they never had been.

“Who goes there?” She demanded, voice strong and carrying across the vast, empty field. 

“A messenger from Phaldin, I bring you no harm.” A voice called. The footsteps slowed but did not stop.

“Show yourself and then we will talk.” Sarah lowered the point of her sword, but she remained in a fighting stance. All her muscles tensed against what could still possibly be an attack.

The young man stepped into the fire light, hands held up to show he carried no weapon. “Please Witcher, we sorely need your services. Our livestock are being slaughtered and a girl has gone missing. Please.” 

Both women lowered their swords. Katherine’s disappearing back into the folds of her cloak while Sarah kept her blade loose in her grip and out of its sheath.

“Can this possibly wait until morn?” Sarah mentally weighed the outcomes of going headfirst into a hunt after a day of riding and had come out lacking.

“I do not know, the beast attacked last night and will probably attack again before the week is out.” The boy's chin seemed to wobble. “Please help us, it took my sister.” 

Sarah let out a noncommittal hum despite the way her heart lurched. She ran through what little she knew about the creature: it had only attacked the livestock but it took a girl, and it only attacked at night, but she needed more information if she was going to make any accurate guess as to what the creature was. Though she was starting to have an idea.

“When was your sister taken?” Sarah asked as she sheathed her sword. This boy was no more a threat than the fields around them.

“Right as the attacks started, three days ago.” He shifted on his feet, unsure whether Sarah would accept the job. Uneasiness written in the tense line of his shoulders.

“And they have never happened before?” Sarah was not liking the image that was resolving itself in her mind. 

“Not that I know of.” He cocked his head to the side, mouthing hanging open ever so slightly. “Why?”

“How old is your sister?” She dodged his question.

“We both just turned eighteen.” 

Twins. That twisted something in Sarah's chest. She couldn’t imagine what her life would have looked like if she had lost David growing up. She pushed down the unpleasant feelings in her chest. “Have you a mother?” 

“She died when we were young. But I don’t see what bearing that has on this.”

“Because I think I know what's plaguing your town.” Sarah ignored the way Katherine suddenly turned her rapt attention fully onto her. It was amazing she hadn’t been writing the entire conversation down, but perhaps she had more tact than Sarah had been giving her credit for.

“Can you stop it?” The boy asked nervously, as though she would say no. When a witcher refused a job the world would probably stop turning then and there.

“Yes, I can,” Sarah paused, thinking some more, “and I think I can get your sister back.” 

The boy's face split with a relief so bright it was practically sunshine. “Many thanks shall be upon your house, witcher.” 

Sarah just nodded. She was never good with people thanking her before the job was done. Thanks was a thing that needed to be earned, not simply given away. Empty thanks was nearly as useless as an empty promise.

“My father shall meet with you before midday tomorrow to work out payment details.” And with that the boy ducked his head and went on his way, back to a home that was no doubt waiting for his return.

Katherine was the first to break the newly settled silence. “So what is it?”

“Lycanthrope. The hereditary kind. His sister is the monster they want to kill, just like their mother was.” Sarah sat back down on her bedroll with what little grace she had left after such a tiring day. It was going to be a very long night.

“You got all that from a few questions?” Katherine sounded surprised, something that would soon wear off in the company of Sarah no doubt.

“I've been doing this a very long time.” Sarah frowned sourly as she laid on her back. She didn’t want to see the pity that was no doubt written across Katherine’s face. It seemed all she was destined to get in her life was fear and pity. A strange combination it seemed, but one she received all the same.

“How are you going to help the girl?” Katherine asked softly after a breath. 

“Love,” Sarah stated plainly. “If the girl has someone who loves her then she’ll transform back when they find her.” She tipped her head just far enough back that she could see where Katherine was now sitting, haloed in the dying glow of their fire. It caught on her eyelashes and turned her hair to burnished copper. 

“The brother.” Understanding clicked into place on Katherine’s features, brightening as though she had just solved a particularly difficult puzzle.

“Exactly, or a lover. All love is equal in the eyes of this sort of magic.” Sarah held Katherine’s gaze for what felt like ages, possibility humming just under her skin. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. 

Katherine was the first to turn away, her face twisted into an expression Sarah couldn’t figure out. 

“You should be getting to sleep, you’ll need your rest for tomorrow,” Katherine said quietly, as if anything louder would fracture the night around them. She had turned back to her writing, frowning at the paper before her. “I’ll tend to the fire once I’m finished.”

Sarah hummed in agreement as a gentle quiet settled over them once again, only broken by the occasional scratch of pen on paper as Katherine wrote. It was nice, Sarah thought, to not be alone anymore. Then, as the stars winked into sight above their heads, her eyes drooped shut and she fell easily into sleep for the first time in a long while.

Dawn came bright and unreasonably early the next morning. Sarah woke first, only a bit stiff as she stood to stretch. The morning was cool and damp as mist hung low in the fields around them. She enjoyed the times she got like this, when the world wasn’t quite awake and everything seemed peaceful. Ironic that a woman who made her living off of violence and killing favored peace and quite above nearly all else. Or maybe it wasn’t ironic at all; we all crave what we can’t easily have. 

She drew in another deep lungful of the heavy air before starting on a simple breakfast. Katherine was still sleeping, curled up tightly beneath her blanket. It looked like she hadn’t moved the entire night, but her face was relaxed and calm. A fact that warmed something in Sarah’s chest, but she still looked away and focused back on breakfast. Katherine would wake soon enough.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, both of them content to sit in a companionable silence before packing up the horses and starting for the town.

Phaldin was small, one could even call it quaint, with only a handful of shops in the town center. The blacksmith, the tailor, the butcher, and the baker were all positioned on the main street with other small shops and taverns branching out around them. And like all small towns the people came to gawk when Sarah, and by association Katherine, came walking into town, their steeds lead behind them. The whispers floated around them but Sarah paid them no mind, she had endured worse things than nosy townsfolk. Her attention was also otherwise directed at the cluster of people who were standing in the center of the square, deep in conversation, only to look up when Sarah and Katherine were mere feet away.

“Witcher, we’re all so glad you took up our cry for help. I’m Benjamin,” greeted one of the men. He looked like a more mature version of the messenger she had spoken to the previous night. This must have been his father, and thus the man who was hiring out her services.

“I’m happy to be of aid to such a welcoming town.” The hidden edge in Sarah’s voice sent most of the onlookers scurrying back to their shops or errands. 

“Come this way, we need to work out the details of your service here.” The man waved her and Katherine over to the baker’s shop, though they were not followed by the other adults who had been speaking with Benjamin.

The scents of yeast and baking bread greeted their senses as they entered the bakery. It was a lovely little place, all of the edges worn smooth by constant use and love. Sarah was suddenly reminded of all the time she spent in the kitchen with her mother as they cooked and made a mess, since neither of them were particularly good at being tidy. It was a bittersweet nostalgia.

“Your daughter is the one missing correct?” Sarah shook herself from the emotion and got straight to the point as the man went behind the counter for his books. 

“Yes, Josephine.” He sent the ledger down onto the surface after brushing away some flour. A crease appeared between his brows as he studied Sarah, his mouth turning down ever so slightly. “I was told you could bring her back to us.”

Sarah was just about to confirm this account when someone came bounding down the stairs near the back of the shop.

“Da, where is the-” But the young man cut himself off when he saw what company had arrived. “Oh she’s here!” 

“This is my son, Jordan.” Benjamin gestured at the boy with a look that said  _ be polite. _

“JoJo please, and if there’s anything I can do to help I’ll do it.” JoJo held out his hand to shake. It was hard, though not impossible, to believe that this was the same nervous boy from last night. He seemed much more at ease due to his faith that Sarah would bring his sister back.

“Good, because I will be needing it.” Sarah dropped his hand just as the door opened.

“Pardon me, I hope I’m not interrupting, but I heard that you are going to save Jo and I want to help.” The girl looked to be the same age as JoJo, but she was a good bit shorter. Her hair was pulled back into a knot of curls, a few escaping and falling into her face, and the dress she wore seemed to be more a collection of different patches than original fabric. She continued on, a straightness in her spine that Sarah hadn’t expected. “Jo is my— well I care very deeply for her and I need her to be alright.” 

Sarah just nodded and gestured for her to join them. “Shall we begin?”

They spent the rest of the day in the bakery formulating their plan. Sarah learned the girl's name, or rather nickname, was Buttons and she had an eye for the details, something that would do them good in the coming search. JoJo on the other hand became restless the longer the day wore on, his eyes incessantly flicking to the windows to check the state of the light outside. Sarah had decided that they would set out at dusk, since Josephine would only be active once the moon rose. 

Katherine had taken fervent notes throughout the conversations, only stopping to eat a few bites of the baked goods Benjamin offered them. It was a wonder that her hand hadn't cramped up yet. 

Then, before they knew it, the sun was dipping below the horizon and they were off on their rescue mission.

The forest before them loomed dark and daunting in the rapidly fading dusk. Sarah knew this was where Josephine would be after JoJo had mentioned that his sister often took refuge between the ancient trees, and as a frightened, newly minted lycanthrope she would be drawn to the familiar comfort against the monster raging inside her. Sarah just wished the girl would have picked a place with better sight lines.

“Ready?” Sarah asked, expecting the semi-frightened nods of affirmation she got in return.

Before they could lose their nerve the four of them set off into the woods, all other sounds immediately swallowed by the trees so only their footfalls and breaths were audible. Katherine kept her palm on the hilt of her sword, not yet drawing it. Buttons held aloft their only lantern, hands shaking the smallest bit against her nerves and the faint chill of the forest. JoJo had come unarmed after Sarah had told him what they were to do. He refused to lift any weapon against his sister, no matter the risk it posed to himself. Sarah herself had been wary about not taking her potion, but now she was rather glad she hadn't as the trees cast strange shadows against the golden lamplight that could have been easily mistaken for monstrous creatures. 

Sarah signaled for them to stop once they reached a few dozen feet in, and she listened. Ears pricking on the slightest of sounds. Mice in the leaf litter. Owls in the trees. The low gurgle of a nearby stream. Then a howl sounded off to her left, followed by the snap and crack of branches under foot as they drew closer. 

“This way. Now,” Sarah stage whispered before taking off into the trees just beyond their lantern light. 

They stumbled upon a clearing, one not unlike the one JoJo had described, the moon shone down bright and full through the opening in the canopy. It was a serene picture with one major exception; the giant wolf laying in the middle of it. 

Josephine let out another pained howl as she curled tighter in on herself, muscles straining and flexing beneath her thick fur. It was that single cry of agony that had JoJo and Buttons all but leaping into the clearing, only barely stopped by Sarah throwing her arm out in front of them. 

“Not yet, let me go first. If she hurts me she won’t feel as guilty when she comes back around,” Sarah said, already striding into the clearing. 

In this form Josephine was larger than even Sarah herself was. She was a true dire wolf with thick mottled brown fur and canines that were more fangs than teeth. But beneath it all Sarah could see the scared girl who was fighting a losing battle.

Sarah kept her sword sheathed on her back as she slowly walked up to Josephine, sparing only the briefest glance behind her to make sure Katherine was keeping JoJo and Buttons back where she had left them.

“Josephine,” Sarah said, firm but gentle as she stepped in front of the wolf.

The lycanthrope startled at her name, eerily human eyes making contact with Sarah’s own, the dark brown out of place on the face of a wolf. She snarled and launched herself in Sarah’s direction before pulling herself off course. A whine worked its way from her as she lunged again. 

Sarah was quick to dodge. “Josephine listen to me, you can’t fight it. You have to make your peace with it.” 

Josephine swiped another clawed paw at Sarah but this time the witcher wasn’t fast enough and it caught her right in the stomach, tearing through her tunic like it were gauze. A noise that’s half snarl half whimper ripped itself from Josephine at the sight of blood welling up in the wound.

Sarah sucked in a tight breath, still not reaching for her sword no matter what her well honed instincts screamed at her. She needed Josephine to know that she wasn’t going to be hurt by any of them, and this approach was obviously not working the way she needed it to. So with one hand pressed to her abdomen she waved Buttons and JoJo over. 

The two came sprinting like their lives depended on it.

“Jo!” Buttons cried before all but flinging herself onto the wolf, JoJo wasn’t far behind as she buried her face in Josephine’s flank. He quickly joined her, pressing his forehead to Josephine’s shoulder, the wolf in too much shock to shake the pair off.

The result was almost instantaneous as they both crushed Josephine in their embrace. Her limbs jerked at odd angles before shrinking back into something more human-like and dexterous. An unhuman cry ripped from her throat, shattering the night around them. Her entire body shook, as her hands scrambled to hold onto Buttons who had moved to wrap herself around Josephine’s chest. Then in the blink of an eye a very human Josephine was sitting there on the forest floor, tears running down her cheeks as she clung onto Buttons with everything she had. 

Sarah turned her gaze away. This wasn’t a moment she was needed in any longer. Instead she found Katherine standing no more than two feet away from her, a grim expression on her face. 

“You’re hurt.” Katherine touched a feather light hand to the spot just above Sarah’s wound, her mouth turned down in a frown.

“What gave it away?” Sarah grimaced when she felt the familiar pull of skin around the gash. It wasn’t the worse wound she’d ever gotten, but it was going to be unpleasant to deal with all the same. Lycanthrope scratches had the tendency to progress through the stages of infection faster than any other Sarah had encountered.

“Are you always this stupid when it comes to your life?” Katherine asked, still frowning with a crease appearing in her brow. Her hand was still pressed to Sarah’s stomach.

Sarah didn’t dain to dignify that with a response, instead she prodded the wound with careful fingers. It wasn’t very deep but it would need to be cleaned and dressed lest it get infected. 

“We need to get them back home.” Sarah nodded to the three teenagers who were still clinging onto one another. Though she believed the tears that were being shed were ones of relief rather than sorrow.

“That we do.” Katherine put to fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. When the three looked to her she told them they were leaving. 

They set off through the forest as a very strange bunch; a witcher and her companion, the baker’s son, the tailor’s daughter and a lycanthrope. It sounded like the start to one of Les’s bad jokes, Sarah thought fondly. 

Once they stepped out from the treeline Sarah was immediately grateful that Buttons had had enough forethought to bring a change of clothes for Josephine, she imagined Josephine was grateful as well when they discovered a congregation of townsfolk waiting for them. 

Before the people could swarm them Josephine appeared by Sarah’s side, eyes downcast but even then they shone inhumanly bright in the dark. “I would just like to say that I’m deeply sorry for hurting you. All you were doing was trying to help, and I’m thankful for that. Not many people are as considerate when it comes to monsters. Just thank you. For everything.”

Sarah simply nodded, “Of course. And Josephine, I’ve met monsters. You’re not one of them.”

Josephine gave her one last grateful look before allowing herself to be swept away in the small crowd as they shepherded them all back towards Phaldin. 

Katherine stayed by Sarah’s side all through the short payment process (Sarah refused anything monetary, only accepting some leftover breads and a room in the inn for the rest of the night). Sarah for her part kept her calm expression in place through the whole journey despite the pain that was slowly choking the air from her lungs each time she tried to take a breath. Her training had given her a high tolerance for pain and the ability to endure things that would kill most people, but when she practically slumped into Katherine on the way to their boarding room the other woman must have put together that something was wrong. 

“Bed now, and take off your shirt,” Katherine ordered the moment the door clicked shut behind them. She immediately went for her traveling bag as Sarah collapsed onto the mattress. 

With her back flat the strain on the lacerations lessened a considerable amount. It took more effort to get the belt and other assorted fasteners undone, and even after all that she only got her tunic pushed up to her mid chest by the time Katherine returned. If she wasn’t in such an exhausted state she might have made a joke about their somewhat compromising position.

Katherine set to work quickly, setting the small basin of water, cloths, and pack of other medicinal supplies on the floor by Sarah’s hip. She tsked quietly as she studied Sarah’s wounds, it made the witcher feel like squirming. Her body wasn’t in the best condition to begin with, afterall a decade of hunting monsters leaves one with more than a few scars. But Katherine didn’t look disgusted or pitying as she pressed careful fingers to Sarah’s abdomen, checking to see if the scratches would need stitching closed. They didn’t, the three scratches were hardly deep enough to warrant more than a simple cleaning and dressing.

“You really should be more careful Sarah,” Katherine admonished quietly as she cleaned away the blood with a damp cloth, her touch not so light as to not be felt but also not heavy enough to cause Sarah to hiss in pain. It was strangely comforting.

“I think I’m in the wrong profession for being careful,” Sarah managed weakly, watching as a curl worked free of tight knot Katherine had secured at the back of her head. She wondered idly where Katherine had learned to patch others up, it was a skill that didn’t quite align with what she knew of the writer, ever the enigma.

Katherine snorted to herself as she wrung out the rag over an empty basin. Now that she deemed the wounds clean enough to dress she assessed them once more. The three lines ran jaggedly across the plane of Sarah’s stomach, stretching from the edge of her ribs to the crest of her hip. It would be awkward to tie the bandages around her midriff, but there were no other viable options, so Katherine began to lay out all the bandages and stips of cloth she had. It wasn’t long before they were all in place along with a salve to stave off infection.

“What would you have done without me,” Katherine sighed as she sat back to admire her handy work. All of her knots were secure, but not tight enough to dig uncomfortably into Sarah’s skin, and she had even managed to get the witcher into clothes that weren’t bloody or covered in forest dirt. 

Sarah just shrugged, pulling herself into a more seated position besides Katherine. The shirt Katherine had given her was loose and soft, smelling faintly of lavender and hay, something she had come to realize was a distinctly  _ Katherine _ smell, along with the ink that often stained her fingers. Something foreign beat its wings in her chest, it had been so long since she’d had someone to help take care of her. It robbed her of any meaningful words, so she just turned to look at Katherine. She looked tired, shoulders slumped forward and eyes starting to droop closed. “I would have managed something.”

“Lucky for you I’m here.” Katherine tilted her face to meet Sarah’s gaze. The wings in her chest kicked up into a tempest when Katherine reached out and set her hand softly atop Sarah’s on the bed.

“Lucky for me,” Sarah breathed out. Her whole body felt like she was standing on a precipice, mere inches away from falling.

When Katherine kissed her it was the first breath of air after being underwater. It was waking from a deep sleep after nothing but fitful nights. It was sunshine chasing away a grey day. 

The world stopped and started with Katherine's lips. 

Sarah wanted to stay in that moment forever; Katherine's lips on hers, a hand at the back of her neck, and soft cotton under her fingertips. But fatigue had started to sink it's claws into her and Sarah found herself fighting back a yawn. The yawn won.

Katherine pulled back, a soft grin on her lips. Everything about her was soft, her eyes, her hair, even the look she was giving Sarah was soft and saccharine. 

Sarah yawned again, this time pushing Katherine's face away gently and muttering “Do not laugh at me.”

Katherine just giggled in retaliation. “I can't, you are much too cute.” 

Sarah did her best for a surly expression. “I'm a witcher, I am not cute.” 

“You are, and,” she added when Sarah opened her mouth, “you like me.” 

And Sarah did. She didn't know how over just the course of just three days she had not only come to think of Katherine as a friend, but as something even closer than that. It was new and terrifying, but Sarah wanted to hold tight to it and not let it go if she could. It was so rare life gave her something as truly good as Katherine. So instead of answering she leaned in again, hoping to get another taste of happiness. 

Katherine on the other hand simply leaned back, her intent clear, but before Sarah's heart could sink Katherine explained. “You need to rest. Since what time do we have to leave tomorrow to make it to Brooklyn on time?”

Sarah groaned. “Just after dawn.” 

“I thought as much, you're very predictable Sarah Jacobs.” Katherine tucked a lock of hair behind Sarah's ear, her grin teasing and light as she pressed a light kiss to Sarah’s temple.

“You've known me for three days, I should hope I'm not that predictable.” Sarah did her best not to yawn again as she laid back in the admittedly lumpy bed, but the sheets were clean and soft nonetheless.

“Perhaps not, but I would like to stay around long enough to find out.” Katherine tucked herself in next to Sarah, pulling the sheets up to her chin. It suddenly struck Sarah that there was only the one bed in the room, a lucky twist of fate perhaps. 

“I would like that as well,” Sarah murmured, before extinguishing the few candles beside the bed and dousing the room in a gentle darkness. The sleep that came to her was as gentle and steady as Katherine's breathing next to her. 

That night she dreamed of sunlight and home.


	4. toss a coin to your witcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again, sorry for the accidental hiatus. i promise the next chapters will come more regularly than this one

David had never been particularly fond of taverns. They were often dark and dank and full of people who didn’t take kindly to him. So he only went into them if he absolutely needed to, or if he was just in dire need of a drink to take the edge off of things. Jack on the other hand thrived in places like that. He lived for the audience and the applause they brought, and he never protested the free drinks either. And the merriment he managed to bring to these places did make them a little less horrible, or so David told himself, that it wasn’t just how Jack seemed to light up whenever he performed or how when the night was done he would always turn back to see if David had been watching. He was always watching.

David tried to tell himself that these feelings were just the side effect of spending so much of his time alone. That he was simply enjoying the company of someone else after months by himself, but even then he knew that was a lie. Jack was different. Time with Jack was more than just companionship. It was unexpected laughter and banter that kept him on his toes. It was feigning annoyance when he felt the startings of a smile after Jack did something ill advised, like start another bar fight. 

It was definitely different, but it was also nice. 

Perhaps that was why David was currently sitting at a corner table in a tavern in the heart of Brooklyn while Jack waltzed around, playing song after song. Some were classics about the great heroes while others were ones David had seen him writing while they were on the road. And if David had to take a drink every time Jack turned his attention to him, then that was his problem alone. 

Jack had just finished the last resounding chorus of The Fishmonger’s Daughter when the front door slammed open. 

The figure that stood there was tall and cloaked, starkly silhouetted against the dying evening light. They stepped further into the bar, hood still up, but were followed quickly by another slightly shorter figure. 

The tavern fell quiet as all eyes turned to the newcomers, David’s included. Though the silence didn’t last long because the moment the first figure turned a large broadsword was moved into view from where it was strapped across their back, and the patrons erupted into not so hushed whispers.

David recognized that sword, after all, he had one exactly like it. 

Sarah had arrived. 

Jack made it to him first, excitement just barely contained as he slid into one of the empty chairs. Lute tucked carefully at his side. “That’s her isn’t it?”

“It is.” He watched as Sarah lowered her hood to talk to the barkeep. A lot had changed in the year they were apart, but it was nice to see the things that hadn’t. Sarah still kept her hair in the same tight braids, her sword was still fastened across her back, and he was willing to bet that she still hated hunts that involved bodies of water. 

But things still ached. An argument as large as theirs didn’t come without damage. David just hoped that they would be able to work together again, because, in all honesty, he missed his sister. She was what made him a good witcher, and vice versa. They were trained as a matched set, always meant to be kept together. But sometimes things break and you can only hope you have all the pieces and a bottle of glue.

David drained the rest of his pint when Sarah and her companion started towards their table. Her face was set in a neutral, if not a bit grim, line. This was going to be a very long night if he and Sarah couldn’t work their shit out.

“Oh she could definitely kill me if she wanted to,” Jack mused more out of respect than fear, but then he sat bolt upright, a bright grin overtaking his face. “Well I’ll be damned. Katherine?”

“Jack?” The woman – Katherine, if Jack was to be believed – started, just as shocked as Jack. 

“Fuck it’s been too long.” Jack was up and smothering her in a hug before anyone could stop him. 

Sarah gave David a look that was equal parts subdued surprise and something that felt like approval. He didn’t want to think about what she was approving of, that would mean having to face feelings he had only recently come to terms with, and tonight could only handle so much growth on David’s part. 

So he just shrugged and watched the scene unfold between Jack and Katherine.

“Does this mean you finally got kicked out of court for indecent behavior?” She asked after Jack finally released her and let her sit down next to Sarah. David didn't miss the way his sister relaxed once Katherine was by her side. 

“You wound me to think I would stoop to such lows. I just left since the world deserves to hear my marvelous voice, not just the pricks of the court.” Jack threw an arm around David's shoulders, who pretended to try to push him off. “David here can attest to that.”

“Don't pull me into this.” David studiously didn't acknowledge the raised eyebrow Sarah was giving him, instead he asked, “So Katherine, how do you know Jack?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Katherine's gaze was steady and firm, it spoke of something more than what she presented herself as. It also begged the question of where  _ Sarah  _ had met her. 

“Yeah, how did you meet  _ Jack? _ ” Sarah's eyes were gleaming in the way that used to mean she and Les had concocted an elaborate prank. Now, though, he wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but it probably wouldn’t be good for his reputation. 

“I killed the basilisk that was hoping for a bardic breakfast.” He shrugged, hopefully being as vague as possible would be good enough. But of course Jack, ever the story teller, hopped on with the details.

“It was amazing. He fought the thing with his eyes closed. Had me swooning.” To punctuate this Jack leaned dramatically into David’s shoulder. “Well until he told me to piss off, of course.”

To everyone’s surprise Sarah snorted, a bright grin breaking through her previously blank facade. “Please tell me he did his whole ‘don’t come near me’ blustering.”

David groaned, dropping his head until it hit the tabletop with a dull thud, his face was warm and he knew the blush was bad. He knew sending that letter to Sarah was a bad idea. How had he forgotten how much of a bully she could be? It really wasn’t fair, what with him being romantically interested in Jack, he didn’t need her embarrassing him. And nope, that line of thought was going to stop right there or surely he would do something incredibly stupid and end up embarrassing himself without help.

Jack must have nodded because Sarah was crowing with laughter. And David had to admit, he missed that sound. Sarah had always been the brighter of the pair, light where he was dark. It was nice to have her back, even if she was a nuisance. 

“He’s always a grump like that after hunts.” She nudged David’s shoulder. “Aren’t you Dave.” 

David responded with a mumbled curse and his own well placed jab to her side, one that if they weren’t grown adults sitting in the middle of a bar would have escalated into a full on wrestling match.

“Who knew it would be so easy to tease two of the deadliest people in the world,” Katherine mused as she took a sip of her wine. The picture of uninvolvement, except for the way her mouth was doing its best to fight off a grin when Sarah shot her a dirty look.

“Oh yes, let’s please make fun of Sarah. I have an entire year to make up for.” David smirked at Sarah, who simply sighed and settled back in her seat, leaning just a bit closer to Katherine. 

Then Katherine launched into a series of stories from their journey there and how Sarah seemed to lack any sense of self preservation and would be lost without her. Sarah protested all of these, but as the evening wore long her objections grew lesser and lesser, and at points David thought he might have seen the two of them link their pinkies together. It was sweet, they were good for each other it seemed.

In these moments it was easy to imagine that they were simply four young adults causing a ruckus in the local pub. Perhaps they were all childhood friends who were reunited and needed to celebrate. That was an easy image to conjure in his mind's eye, one where they weren't two outcast monster hunters, a traveling bard, and a writer trying to make their way in the world. What wouldn’t David give for that fantasy to be real. To have known Jack growing up, to have had Sarah to go to when he first caught feelings, and to have Katherine there for Sarah. It would have been nice. Maybe David would have become a librarian, a collector of books and knowledge. Something that wasn’t the violent survival they all seemed to be living. 

It was Katherine that pulled him from his reverie. “What’s the plan from here? Assuming we have one.”

“From here it’s a two days journey to Manhattan, which is where the letter came from. I don’t know who our employers are, but they made a good show of faith, so I think it’s worth going there and checking it out. After that it all depends on what sort of job it is, though if they think they need both of us to carry it out I don’t have much hope that it’ll be something easy.” He looked to everyone at the table, then to Katherine and Jack specifically. “I can’t guarantee that you two will be safe if you come with us, you’ve seen what our work looks like firsthand, but this would most likely be ten times more dangerous than that.”

“I’m up for the challenge, it’s been a while since we’ve been in any true danger. And I can’t let you have all the fun.”  _ I won’t let you get yourself killed,  _ went unspoken, but David heard it all the same. From Sarah that was as good as any olive branch. 

They were going to be alright, even if they still had a lot to talk about. But that would happen later, after a good night’s sleep.

“I’m down for a little danger. Kathy?” Jack asked, full of more levity than the situation called for, but David was slowly learning that the bard covered his worries and fear with cheer and humor. And there was definitely an edge of apprehension in Jack’s voice. 

Katherine looked like she was deep in thought, brow furrowed and lips pursed. She only relaxed when Sarah put a hand on her elbow. “I’ll join you, I’ve come this far after all, but I can’t come with you to talk to your employers. The last time I was in Manhattan I didn’t leave on the best terms and there are people there who wouldn’t be too happy to see me again, and I have a feeling they’re the ones you’ll be meeting with.” 

It was lacking in any real detail, but if Sarah trusted her then that would have to be enough for David as well. He trusted his sister not to be involved with people who would stab them in the back, but there was always that chance. Though he guessed the same could be said about Jack. 

“Alright. We leave in the morning, and if there’s ever a time along the way that any of you change your minds I won’t hold it against you.” They all nodded their agreement and David suddenly wondered when he’d become the voice of reason and planning.  _ When had he gotten so old? _

“Good. Now that the business portion of the evening is done, do either of you lovely ladies have any requests?” Jack swung his lute back into his hands, strumming a few chords as he gave the two his dazzling showman’s smile. David just rolled his eyes at his antics.

“Whichever song will annoy my brother the most.” Sarah’s smile was devious and David regretted every single moment that lead him to this very one. 

“Of course. I know just the thing.” Jack stood from his seat, grin bright and mischievous as he made his way to the center of the tavern. 

Then he began to sing. 

_ “When a humble bard _

_ Graced a ride along _

_ With David of Rivia _

_ Along came this song…” _

David dropped his head to his hands for the second, but probably not the last, time that evening. It was too much. Jack singing his praises of David, all while looking like  _ that _ with his doublet undone and hair a mess after a day of busking around town. But with this song, and Jack’s charisma there was undoubtedly something magical about it. He practically glowed with it as he danced around the tavern.

“You picked a good one, don’t let him get away,” Sarah whispered knowingly. 

David couldn’t stop the swelling feeling he got in his chest at that. “I did, didn’t I?” 

Sarah just smiled softly, tucking herself back into Katherine’s side. “Like I said, don’t let him get away.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” His words were for Sarah, but his focus had found its way back to Jack, who was smiling brightly at him as he sang the final chorus.

_ “Toss a coin to your Witcher _

_ O' Valley of Plenty _

_ O' Valley of Plenty, oh _

_ Toss a coin to your Witcher _

_ A friend of humanity.” _

And maybe there was magic in a bard’s song. David’s heart soared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we get jack singing the titular song finally! which can be found [here on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/2KMLGJ1mPfRE4GNdL92rl3?si=226aqySKQeWEefqiOAmpRQ)

**Author's Note:**

> as always tell me what you thought and what you liked down below, it will make my day!  
> find me on tumblr @ad-astra-de-luna


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